In the Line of Duty
by CasusFere
Summary: After Mission City, Barricade moves to LA and mystifies the local police force.
1. In the Line of Duty

By the time Officer Blake met Barricade, the story of the phantom patrol car was firmly entrenched in precinct lore.

It had been showing up from time to time over the last six months, at first just something seen out of the corner of the eye and lost in the freeway traffic. The breakroom was filled with whispered mutterings and sightings, but most officers dismissed the rumors as too much coffee and vivid imaginations.

Over the last couple months, though, the sightings had gotten more and more frequent. Officers came in with a blurry tape from their dashboard camera, and a story of rolling into a speed trap to find it already occupied. Always the same car, marked "643." No one had seen a driver. No one could get close enough to investigate, though, and any attempts to block the phantom car in resulted in maneuvers that would have challenged the most talented professional driver, and the car vanishing into the distance.

But phantom cars had been the farthest thing from Ritchie Blake's mind the night he met Barricade. It was a routine traffic stop gone wrong. He'd found himself curled up on the concrete, unarmed, bleeding and disorientated from a blow to his head. He'd been looking down the barrel of his own gun when a flash of lights and the rising _whoop_ of a police siren sent his attackers running.

Blake had never heard anything so beautiful as that siren in his life.

He slowly levered himself into a sitting position as his rescuer pulled up next to him. Vision still a bit fuzzy, Blake blinked at the police shield on the side. Was there something wrong there? His eyes slid to the rear tire, and the unit number.

643.

He froze. There was no unit 643. It was just a story – Vaguely, he heard his radio click, a deep gravelly voice calling in an officer down.

The next thing he remembered was looking up at Sgt. Tacona's worried face.

"You were wrong, Sarge," Blake managed as the paramedics shifted him onto a stretcher.

"Just relax, Ritchie, everything's going to be fine…"

"'S not a patrol car, Sarge." The old sergeant was known around the break room as the phantom car's biggest fan

"What isn't?"

"643," Blake mumbled. "He's an interceptor." Any reply the sergeant made was lost as Blake passed out again.

By the time Blake was released and returned to duty, the story of his rescue by the mysterious Unit 643 had already made the rounds through the station. The skeptics and most of the brass were writing it off as head trauma, maybe even a hoax. Blake didn't think so. He'd seen the interceptor up close. 643 was real, and it had saved his life. But since seeing ghost cars wasn't the sort of thing you wanted the defense counsel to bring up in court, he kept his mouth shut and let the others speculate.

But after a month of crack-pot theories on the nature of 643 and what had really happened that night, Blake was beginning to doubt if he'd really seen it himself.

Until he pulled up under an underpass to find 643 already there.

Blake didn't even try to trap the interceptor. From what the others had said, attempting to do so would only spook the mysterious car, and he'd never get an answer. He pulled up alongside 643, leaving it plenty of room to pull out. Then he climbed out of his patrol car and perched on the hood, looking over the car next to him.

The car – a Saleen Mustang, he noted – didn't move, but Blake got the unsettling feeling that it was watching him back.

"I wasn't sure if you were real," Blake said after a moment.

The interceptor was still and silent.

"I wanted to thank you," Blake continued, "For saving my life."

Blake would have silly, sitting on the edge of a highway, talking to a car, if it wasn't for the aura of wariness that surrounded the Mustang.

A long minute of silence, then the Mustang's engine rumbled to life and the interceptor started to roll forward.

"Wait!"

The interceptor paused.

"Can I get your name, at least?"

Blake didn't think he'd get an answer - after all, even the most ridiculous of the stories running around the precinct didn't have the car talking - but after a moment, a deep voice growled out, "Barricade."

Then the Mustang pulled out into the highway traffic and was gone.

Barricade showed up more and more often as the weeks went by; sometimes sitting on street corners, sometimes tagging along on high-speed chases. And one day Blake walked out of the precinct to find him parked in the chief's spot.

After that, Barricade's existence became something of an accepted fact around the precinct, to the point Dispatch logged 643 as a radio call-number under the name "Barricade." The brass were finally believers after the chief had shown up to work to find a car that wasn't supposed to exist sitting in his spot, talking –_talking_ – to one of his officers.

Quiet inquiries with his contacts had turned up some rather bizarre possibilities concerning the police car who called himself Barricade. The report sitting open on the chief's desk was highly classified, and he'd had to call in quite a few favors to get it. The information it contained was disturbing, on more than one level.

The chief closed the report, thinking hard.

On one hand, if what the report was implying was true, Barricade's continued presence in the city was putting a lot of people in serious risk. The report pegged Barricade as a member of a dangerous alien faction, bent on the total destruction of mankind.

On the other, there was no evidence Barricade had done anything wrong or tried to harm anyone. He hadn't even been _at_ Mission City.

And he'd saved Blake's life.

The chief wasn't so sure about these "Autobot" characters that the military had been getting their Intel from, anyway. Deliberately taking a military target into a densely populated civilian population… they'd been lucky that the death toll had been as low as it had.

He'd trust his gut instincts over these Autobots, and his gut was telling him that Barricade wasn't the monster he'd been made out to be. Aloof, perhaps, but with a wickedly dark sense of humor that the chief had appreciated in their few conversations.

His men were safer with Barricade around. And as long as Barricade protected his men, the LAPD would protect Barricade.

In the meantime, he just had to convince the sentient car to let them change those side decals…


	2. Alone

A/N: And here's 'Cade's take on the last few months... Pfft, this seemed so much longer in my notebook.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Barricade was tired. He'd been alone for months now, and he missed the spastic never-ending chatter of his partner, even if he'd never admit it.

He'd found the badly injured Frenzy at the dam, and repaired him as best he could. But Frenzy didn't wake up. Barricade had told himself to wait, to have patience, that it could be weeks before Frenzy's self-repair systems fixed all the inner damage.

At first, Frenzy had improved. The spliced wiring knitted back together, and the cracks in his armor had begun to fuse… but Frenzy stayed offline. A month passed, then two. By the end of the third month, Barricade was losing hope. Everything seemed to be working, all his diagnostic checks coming back good, but Frenzy wouldn't wake up.

By the end of the fourth month, Barricade knew he had to make a choice. Frenzy wasn't coming back by himself, no matter how long he waited. Either he gave up and left Frenzy behind, or get him to a medic.

_Well, at least I know where to find one_, he had thought with a dark sort of humor.

Two months had passed since Ratchet returned to his medbay one evening to find Frenzy laid out on a table. Barricade hadn't gone back; the possibility of finding Frenzy dead hurt too much.

He was lonely. There, he'd admitted it to himself. He was alone and he didn't like it.

He'd toyed with the idea of hunting the Witwicky boy down, but discarded it. It wouldn't change anything. Megatron would still be dead, Starscream would still be a coward, Frenzy would still be gone, and he'd still be alone.

That was the state of mind he found himself when he came across Blake. Cornering a human and transforming to terrify them into wetting themselves was an amusement he couldn't afford to indulge anymore, with the Autobots undoubtedly hunting for him. He'd made due with frustrating and confusing the local police when he came across them; slipping up on them so it would seem he'd suddenly appeared, then losing them in traffic. Half of them seemed to think he was a ghost, the other half an elaborate prank.

Barricade had more of the same when he snuck up on Officer Blake's patrol car, only to find Blake on the ground, with a man pointing a gun at his head.

The shock and fear on the attacker's face when he flipped on his lights and siren had been the most amusement he'd had in weeks.

Barricade tried not to think about why he radioed the police station with the address, just like he tried not to think about why, a month later with the loneliness and silence eating at him, he answered when the officer asked for his name.

And he _certainly_ wasn't going to think about what he was doing in the middle of the police parking lot, listening to the old human in charge of the department.

"Come on, I'm only asking you to change two words. Two! It's not like you're actually _doing_ any enslaving, anyway…"


	3. Reunion

"I'm sorry Ratchet, but I can't allow a Decepticon to have free run of the base. Anytime he's not under direct supervision, Frenzy will have to be secured."

"I'm not sure why the little slagger gets out of the box at all," muttered Ironhide.

"Because it's cruel! Dammit Optimus, how are we supposed to make peace with the Decepticons like you've been going on about if we don't take the first step? Because I'm sure Barricade would be delighted to lay down his weapons when he finds out we've been keeping his partner in a cage. Right after he shoots us, that is!"

"We could always put _him_ in a cage and shoot him," Ironhide offered helpfully.

"No, Ironhide. We can't risk it, Ratchet. If Frenzy gained access to our computer systems-"

"I know, I know," Ratchet grumbled. "It's still not right, Optimus. He's miserable locked up like that, and we've given him no reason to think he's ever leaving. I - I don't like it," he finished uncomfortably.

"I _am_ sorry, but it's the best we can do."

"I still like the 'shoot him' option."

"Ironhide!

x-x-x

It had become something of a habit for Blake to take his morning coffee in the parking lot.

"The chief wants to know if you're going to change those decals yet," Blake said cheerfully as he perched on the hood of his patrol car.

Barricade growled.

"I'll take that as a no." It was the same question he'd relayed every morning, and the same answer. It'd become something of a ritual greeting.

Barricade settled on his wheels as Blake sipped his coffee and started chatting, sharing station gossip and opinions on cases. None of it was particularly important to Barricade; he could get the pertinent details directly from the reports, after all. But it was… soothing… to let the idle chatter wash over him.

Barricade was faintly disgusted with himself. They were _humans_. Disgusting little fleshbags! He was a _Decepticon_! He was…

He was lonely. Slag it all…

x-x-x

Ratchet stared guiltily at the form huddled against the side of the transparent box.

_He's a Decepticon,_ he reminded himself.

_But that shouldn't matter_. He sighed and turned away. He could understand the need for security, but now, faced with the miserable little 'con, he couldn't convince himself that it was anything but wrong. The spastic hacker hadn't taken well to being locked up, with all his communications jammed.

Ratchet had been surprised, to say the least, the night he'd returned to base to find Frenzy unconscious on an exam table. He'd shown signs of a competent, if inelegant, repair job, but the neural damage had obviously been past his partner's abilities. Even with Ratchet's skill, it had been nearly a month of delicate work before Frenzy showed any signs of waking.

Ironhide hadn't been happy to find out about the hacker's presence in the medbay. Optimus had just shook his head and left the Ratchet to his repairs.

The medic turned and crossed the room to stand in front of Frenzy's cage. The little 'con perked up a bit at his approach. He unlatched the lid, and scooped up the fully-repaired Frenzy.

"He cares a great deal for you, doesn't he?"

Frenzy fixed bright blue optics on him, but didn't respond.

"He risked his life to get you to me," Ratchet continued thoughtfully. "And you're lost without him, aren't you?"

If Frenzy had any reply to that, he kept it to himself. Ratchet stared at the tiny mech in his hand for a moment longer.

Then he came to a decision.

x-x-x

Blake knew Barricade wasn't actually listening to him. But he seemed to enjoy the company – or at least, he still showed up every morning, parked next to Blake's cruiser. Blake took it as permission to continue. Some mornings, he even got a few words out of the interceptor.

Barricade stiffened suddenly, tension radiating off his frame, cutting Blake off mid-sentence.

"What is it?" the officer asked quietly.

"Autobot," Barricade growled in reply.

The precinct had been briefed on the Cybertronian factions, but information was sketchy at best. Blake scanned the parking lot nervously. The last thing he wanted was to get caught in the crossfire, with his only weapon completely ineffectual against their armor.

So it was with some trepidation that he watched the search and rescue vehicle pull into the lot. Something in the way Barricade shifted told Blake that the interceptor was watching it, too.

The Autobot pulled up in front of Blake's patrol car. None of them moved for a long moment.

Barricade broke the silence. "What do you want, Autobot?"

The Autobot blew exhaust in something that sounded very much like a sigh. Then he opened his passenger door.

Blake yelped, spilling coffee as something silver and pointy streaked out of the door and skittered over his leg. It jumped on Barricade's hood, darting back and forth, chattering excitedly. Blake cursed, shaking coffee off his hand and watching the little silver… thing… bound onto Barricade's roof, making happy noises. He shook his head.

x-x-x

Barricade was floored. He hadn't expected to ever see Frenzy again, much less have the Autobots hand him over without making any sort of demand in return. But the medic did just that, releasing his partner and driving off without a word.

The human had flashed him an annoyingly _knowing_ grin and disappeared inside for something to clean the coffee off his hood.

"Stop that," he grumbled at Frenzy, but it lacked any heat. Frenzy just chittered at him and hopped through the open door to continue his inspection of his partner.

"That tickles, you frenetic excuse for a can opener!" But Barricade couldn't deny the sense of well-being that overcame him as Frenzy finally settled down. "How-" he started.

"Sentimental Autobot-t-t," Frenzy explained. "Sucker," he added.


	4. Snipe Hunt

A/N - Just a little snippet while I re-write the Autobot part I had scheduled for this chapter. This takes place a few days after Frenzy gets to LA. Barricade and Frenzy break in the new guy.

----------------------------------------

"Phantom police cars my ass," Detective Walters muttered to himself as he stalked across the parking lot. "I've been in the force to long for this snipe-hunt new-guy bullshit." He yanked open the door of his unmarked car, tossing his bag in the passenger seat.

A black and white interceptor rolled silently up behind him and parked.

Walters dropped into his driver seat, muttering darkly to himself. Glancing in his rear-view mirror, he cursed at the black paneling and overhead lights filling the mirror.

"Hey buddy! Move your ass!"

No response.

Walters climbed out of his car and stalked towards the interceptor. "Hey, you! I said-" He stopped. The interceptor was empty. His eyes fell on the unit number. 643.

"Oh, ha ha, very funny. Phantom police car, I'm just dying with amusement." He walked around the car, looking for the pranksters he _knew_ were hiding nearby.

_Maybe they left the keys_, he thought with an air of annoyance. He turned back to the car.

And nearly jumped out of his skin when he found it occupied. A mustachioed officer was sitting in the driver's seat, resting one elbow on the open window frame with a sub-sandwich in hand.

Walters was so busy staring that he completely missed the small silver shape that skittered out from under his car and through the open door.

The officer looked up at Walters. "Yeah?" he asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

The detective glared. "Officer-" his eyes flicked to the nametag, "Barricade, you are blocking my vehicle in."

"Am I?" He looked completely unconcerned, taking another bite.

"Yes! Now move it!"

"Sorry, no can do. I'm on my lunch break."

Walters closed his eyes and counted to ten. "If you don't move your-" he opened his eyes and stopped. The car was empty. "What the hell?" He leaned in the open window, looking around. The car was spotlessly clean and completely empty. He turned away, glaring around the parking lot. They were laughing at him, he just knew it…

A slurping noise made him spin back around. The uniformed cop was giving him an odd look as he took another drink from his soda.

Unnoticed, the small silver figure closed Walter's lap-top with a quiet snigger, and hopped back under the car.

"You look a little stressed, Detective," the officer told Walters, sounding bored and uninterested.

_That is it!_ "Look here-" Walters grabbed for the impertinent officer's arm. His hand passed straight through. Unperturbed, the officer took another bite of his sandwich and raised an eyebrow in Walters' direction.

The detective backed away from the interceptor, mouth working. A hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump.

Officer Blake was grinning at him. "I see you've met Barricade, Detective." The sound of a car door closing made both of them turn.

The interceptor was empty.

"You get used to him," Blake assured the distraught Walters cheerfully as the interceptor's engine started, and the police car rolled smoothly away.

With no driver. Walters whimpered.

x-x-x

Barricade grinned to himself. _That was fun_. "You enjoy yourself?" he asked the CB radio tucked into his dash.

Frenzy snickered. "He'll get lotsa pic-c-ctures every time he opens a file," he cackled happily.

Barricade was silent for a moment. "What exactly is the significance of 'gay porn,' anyway?"

"Not-t sure. Ask Blake," Frenzy suggested. "But it does get funny reactions."


	5. The Road to Hell

A/N - Another very short bit while I pack for the weekend. I don't think I'll have time to update before I leave, but I've got the next part written. Just have to edit it.

x-x-x

"Optimus, the little slagger's escaped!" Ironhide roared as the stomped into the control room, Bumblebee trailing behind.

"No, he hasn't," Ratchet said quietly from behind them. All heads turned to stare at the dust-covered medic. "I let him go."

Silence.

"You WHAT?!"

"Ironhide, calm down!" Optimus ordered. "Ratchet, I think you have some explaining to do."

The medic met his optics squarely. "No, I don't. The situation was morally unacceptable. You wouldn't address the problem, so I did."

"You disobeyed a direct order."

Ratchet ignored that. "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings, remember? Or maybe you should start adding 'except for the ones we don't like' to the end, Prime!"

"Sometimes operational security infringes on personal freedoms. You know that," Optimus tried to reason with the furious medic.

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, I understand that. But how long until it becomes 'the needs of my people outweigh the needs of yours.' In fact, how many times has that already happened? Are we really so different from-"

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare compare us to that Decepticon scum!" Ironhide interrupted savagely.

"Easy, Ironhide. We're not trying to enslave anyone, Ratchet. We're doing our best to protect both ourselves and the people of this planet. And you may have compromised that by taking a skilled enemy hacker out of the jamming field, potentially allowing him access to our systems!"

"I drove him out of the state before I turned him loose," Ratchet muttered defensively.

"Where, Ratchet?"

He gave a defeated sigh. "Los Angeles. I gave him back to Barricade. Frenzy found some reference in a police database when I turned off the jamming equipment, and we found Barricade hiding in the precinct parking lot."

A moment of dead silence. "You could have been killed!" Ironhide exploded, "And we wouldn't even have known what happened to you!"

Ratchet looked a bit guilty at that.

"At least we know where Barricade is," Optimus mused. "We may be able to gain the human police's aid in keeping track of those two. If nothing else, they need to be notified of how dangerous Barricade is. Ironhide, come with me. We need to do a little planning."

Bumblebee followed Ratchet out of the room, catching up to the medic outside the medbay.

"Something's still bothering you," Bee observed quietly.

"It's nothing," grunted Ratchet.

"It's bothering you an awful lot to just be nothing."

Ratchet was quiet for a moment. "Sometimes I wonder what we're fighting over. This war has destroyed everything we sought to keep, everything they wanted to control… what's left?"

"We fight to protect this planet, now. To keep the Decepticons from enslaving their world, like they tried to enslave ours."

"And that worked out so well, for Cybertron, didn't it." Ratchet sat on the edge of an exam table. "Bee, he was afraid of me."

"Frenzy?"

"No – there was a police officer in the parking lot. He knew what I was, and he was afraid of me."

"Barricade must have lied to him; skewed his perception of the Autobots."

"Maybe. But I don't think he had too. A lot of people died in Mission City, people who had no part in our war, and it was as much our fault as the Decepticons'. We choose to take the Allspark into the city, and they died because of it." He paused. "In some ways, I think the humans have as much reason to fear us as they do the Decepticons. Maybe- Bah, forget I said anything, youngling. You should be getting back anyway; Sam's probably looking for you by now."

x-x-x

"What can we do for the Army today, Captain?" The old police chief waved Lennox in. "Please, sit."

"Actually, I'm not here on behalf of the Army," Lennox said, settling into a chair. "What do you know about the… incident… at Mission City?"

"That depends. The official bullshit, or the giant alien robots that turn into cars?"

Lennox leaned forward. "The alien robots, sir."

The chief eyed the young officer over steepled fingers. "What about them, Captain?"

"One of the factions, the ones who are trying to protect our planet, asked me to speak with you. The Autobots have reason to believe that two Decepticons are hiding in LA. They're both extremely dangerous, and I strongly caution you not to approach them."

"Then what do you want?"

"Help keeping tabs on them, for both your protection and ours. Keep the Autobots informed of their movements-"

"Track the dangerous alien robots, for the other dangerous alien robots. I rather think not, Captain. Besides being a gross misuse of police powers and an unnecessary danger to my men, I'm not entirely convinced of your Autobot friends' intentions."

"Sir, you should know that one of the two is masquerading as a –"

"Police interceptor. Yes, I do know. The other's a radio with a bad case of ADD. They've made no trouble since arriving. In fact, they've done quite the opposite."

"They've killed people. Both of them."

"They were soldiers, Captain, in a time of war. We were, I understand, holding their leader hostage. Any crimes they committed were war crimes and out of my jurisdiction. If a _legitimate_ authority wishes to pursue them for any such crimes, they will, of course, have our full cooperation."

"Sir-"

"Don't bother. Pass a message along to Optimus Prime for me." He leaned across the desk. "Tell him to mind his own damn business."


	6. Psychological Warfare

The police chief leaned against the door jam, watching Barricade and Frenzy harassing the new detective. It was funny, in a wicked sort of way… and the guy really _had_ brought it on himself. The young man would make a fine detective if he'd get over himself a bit.

The chief sighed, his mind going back to another young officer. _Probably shouldn't have told the captain that last bit, _he thought to himself with a twinge of foreboding. _Pissing off the giant alien killing machine is not the best idea I've ever had. But in for a penny, in for a pound._ He'd chosen to side with Barricade when the Decepticon first showed up, and nothing had changed.

He nodded agreeably to the interceptor and his mischievous passenger as they rolled by, leaving a nearly-hysterical detective in their wake.

He'd still keep _tabs_ on the two, of course. He wasn't _stupid._

x-x-x

Frenzy made a face at the old human as they passed. "So the humans sent-t-t the Autobot-t pet away with h-his t-tail between his legs?"

Barricade paused. "Bizarre idiom," he noted. "But yes. They attack us, they risk turning the humans against them."

They drove in silence for a moment.

"They c-can't shoot us?"

"No."

"… We've so _got_ t-to screw with them!"

x-x-x

The gall of him! The no-good, slimy… _Decepticon!_ Parked out in the street in broad daylight like he had a _right _to be there!

Ironhide glared at Barricade from his spot in the Lennox driveway. And the worst part of it was –

He was doing _nothing_.

Optimus had ordered Ironhide to leave Barricade and the little cyber-rat alone. "We must stop fighting if we ever want to end this war," Optimus had told him while Ratchet stood in the background looking smug. So until they had _evidence_, Ironhide was to do nothing but _watch._

"_Evidence?!_ He's a Decepticon! What more evidence do you need?!"

Optimus had just shaken his head. "We can't afford to risk turning the humans against us, Ironhide. If they move against us or an innocent, we will act. Until then, just keep an eye on them."

Ironhide would rather keep a targeting sensor on them, personally.

And so far, Barricade seemed to be behaving himself. _More likely he's just gotten better at hiding the bodies,_ Ironhide thought to himself furiously. There was even reports that Barricade – and recently, Frenzy – had been _helping_ the Los Angeles Police. Ironhide didn't believe it for a second.

But now Barricade was hundreds of miles from LA, sitting quietly in front of the Lennox home.

And mocking him. By saying absolutely nothing.

Ironhide had given up ranting a few hours ago. There had been a moment when he was sure the Decepticon was going to do something, but alas, Barricade just scooted forward a few feet to get out of the shad that had been creeping up his back wheel. The cyber-rat had poked his head up a few times, but was currently out of sight.

So Ironhide was reduced to glowering.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" Barricade's voice came over the radio.

Ironhide started. "What?"

Silence.

"Did you just speak to me?"

More silence. Ironhide got the feeling he was being laughed at.

"What in the Pit are you doing here, Decepticon?!"

"LA was a bit cold today." He _was _laughing, the slagging bastard!

"You won't get away with this!"

"With what, exactly?"

"You know exactly-" Ironhide broke off as a small silver form darted out from under Sarah's car and between his wheels. Before he could get into gear to run the little runt over, Frenzy was back in the relative safety of Barricade's interior.

"What in the Pit – What did the cyber-rat do?!" Ironhide was furious; both at the Decepticons and at himself for letting Frenzy sneak past him in _broad daylight_. "WHAT DID HE DO?!"

Barricade just laughed, flipping his lights on and speeding off down the road, leaving a horrified and frantic truck behind.

-----------------------------------

A/N - Poor Ironhide, you know he assumed the worst... Good thing they're not that suicidal, eh?


	7. Banter

Blake watched the Mustang roll back into the precinct parking lot after three days of absence. He had to grin – the interceptor was purring like a two-ton kitten.

"So, whose life you two been making miserable?" Blake called over his cruiser's hood.

"None of your business, fleshbag," Barricade grumbled good-naturedly, pulling in next to Blake.

"And he d-d-deserved it-t anyway," Frenzy added, poking his head out the open window.

"I don't think I wanna know," Blake laughed, shutting his car door. "I'm going inside before I accidentally learn something I shouldn't. It's good to have you two back."

"Pat my hood and I'm going to run you over."

Blake pulled his hand back, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry."

x-x-x

"Slag it, Prime! Haven't you been listening?!"

"Yes, I have, Ironhide. But juvenile pranks do not constitute a reason to risk lives." He held up a hand to forestall the older mech's protests. "No, this isn't up for discussion." Optimus glanced down at the tired-looking Lennox. "I'm sorry for any distress all of this may have caused you and your family, Captain."

Lennox waved the apology away. "It's really more of an annoyance." He shook his head. "Have to admire the little bugger, though. He even got the TV to display backwards and upside down."

Sam choked. Ironhide glared at them before turning and stomping out. Optimus just sighed and followed him.

Sam waited until they were out of earshot. "Did he really write – "

"'My other car is a Decepticon?' Yeah, right across Sarah's bumper. I thought ol' Ironhide was going to lose a gasket."

Bumblebee's door panels twitched as he desperately tried to keep from laughing. Epps didn't even bother hiding it.

"He also sliced the back seams of every pair of fatigues I own," Will continued wryly. "I had to beg a pair off the boys on base."

"Frenzy was a busy little bot, eh?" Epps chuckled.

"Oh, that's not all. After re-wiring the stove burners, he made all the calculators in the house add in base six. Even removed the seven, eight and nine buttons, the helpful little shit." Lennox was chuckling despite himself. "Of course, that wasn't the worst of it. Besides the pudding in our bed, he also signed us up for every mailing list in the Western Hemisphere, paper and email. And I'm sure we haven't found everything yet."

Sam sat on Bee's foot, laughing so hard tears ran down his face.

"Oh, god… Sorry man, but it's pretty damn funny," Epps said apologetically, still trying to catch his breath.

Lennox sobered a bit. "It is now, but it wasn't at first. I mean… we had a Decepticon loose in our house, completely undetected despite the fact that we were home, and Ironhide was parked in the driveway. He could have done a lot of damage before 'Hide noticed anything was wrong."

"So that's why Ironhide is so upset." Sam wiped his eyes, grin faltering a bit.

"He's afraid of what could have happened," Will said quietly. Raised voices could be heard coming through the doors. Ironhide wasn't letting the issue go. Will paused a moment. "Well, that and the micro-transmitter."

"The micro-transmitter?"

Will bit back a smirk. "Animal sounds. Every time he hits the brakes. He's too embarrassed to tell Ratchet, and it's so small I can't find it."

"… Animal sounds?" Bumblebee asked faintly.

"Oh, yeah. Sheep, geese, donkey…My favorite is the cow." He mimed hitting the brakes. "Mooooooooooooo."

Laughter broke out again.

x-x-x

"_643, 110."_

"_643."_

"_What's the status on 643 and a quarter?"_

"_He's 10-96."_

A pause._ "I know he's crazy, 643. I was asking if he was available."_

"_He's not with me. Check the report room."_

"_Copy 643, 110 clear."_

x-x-x

Detective Walters glared at the radio sitting on his desk, an evidence tag attached to its antenna. He dropped h is report on the desk and glared around the room. "Who left heir evidence on my desk?! This is my workspace! It is not a communal table!" No one answered, but the looks he was getting back were unfriendly.

He turned back to his desk and stopped.

The report was upended across his keyboard. Walters frowned. _Must have dropped it wrong…_ He gathered the papers and put them back into the folder. Walters gave the officers another suspicious look.

The sound of a paper shredder started behind him. Walters gaped at the open folder on his desk, and the report disappearing into the shredder.

"What the-"

Someone chortled. Walters glared. He gathered what was left of his dignity and grabbed the CD-player, stalking out. He headed for the evidence locker, flipping the evidence tag over as he walked. "Case number 643. Evil Alien Robot," he read out loud. "Does this crap _ever _stop?"

He was so focused on imagining what he was going to do with the pranksters when he finally caught them that he completely missed the arm unfolding from the CD-player in his hand. He didn't notice the claw undoing the snap holding his keys on, or the muffled _jang_ of the keys landing in the garbage as they passed.

He even missed his wallet landing in the drinking fountain, and the can of mace being handed to an amused female officer as she held a security door for him.

Walters reached the heavy reinforced door protecting the evidence lockers and grabbed for his keys.

There was an empty loop where they should've been. Alarmed, the detective checked his belt. His cell… handcuffs… radio…

"What the _hell?!_" He set the CD-player down next to the door and turned back to try and locate his things. The hallway was empty. Walters kicked the security door, unable to get through without a key. He pounded on the door. "This isn't funny!" No answer. He gave the door another kick before deciding to try the other doors, hoping to find another officer. _If nothing else, there's a camera outside the evidence room – Dispatch can buzz me in and out._

He stopped. The CD-player was gone.

x-x-x

Walters immerged from the back some time later to a chorus of sniggering, carrying most of his missing equipment. He was, to put it lightly, furious.

_When I find the joker who dropped my cell in the mop bucket…_

He still hadn't found his keys.

Walters dumped his gear on his desk and cursed. The damn CD-player was sitting where his computer was supposed to be. The computer was on the floor, the keyboard sticking out of the garbage can.

"Oh, _that's_ where it went. Excuse me, sir." Blake leaned around the detective and snagged the CD-player. The officer took one look at Walter's purpling face and decided he and Frenzy should probably find another area of the precinct.

x-x-x

Ironhide's engine snarled. _Why_ was he the only one who realized how much a danger the two Decepticons were? They had _proved_ it with the stunt at the Lennox house. But the other Autobots were shrugging the whole thing off as a harmless prank!

Ironhide knew better. They were flaunting their ability to hit whatever they wanted; the fact they hadn't hurt anyone this time did _not_ mean they wouldn't next time.

Well, there wouldn't be a next time. Ironhide turned south, merging onto the freeway. In four hours, they wouldn't be a danger anymore. Not for anyone, ever again.

x----------------x-----------------x

A/N - Bad 'Hide! Alright, notes on police radio codes...Barricade is unit 643, Blake is unit 110. "and a quarter" usually refers to the child of an officer. "and a half" would be their spouse. In this case, Blake's refering to Frenzy, who would probably take offense and being called Barricade's kid if he'd been listening. A"10-96" is a mental patient. Saying someone is 10-96 means they're nuts. More notes on police stations - Because evidence lockers generally contain large amounts of guns and drugs, they're usually located in the middle of the precinct, behind at least two sets of heavy-duty security doors that require either a key or being buzzed in by the people watching the cameras.


	8. Consequences

A/N - Arg, it didn't want to upload anything this morning. so annoying. Anywho, only one more chapter after this. It feels so wierd to be almost done with it! I'm going to have to do a sequel. Or ten.

x-x-x

"Still here?" Ratchet looked surprised.

Will nodded. "Ironhide left without me." He hesitated. "Ratchet, I think he's going to do something stupid."

"Nonsense," Ratchet assured him. "Ironhide is-" As he spoke, he brought up his sensors. He sighed. "-Heading south on I-5." The medic toggled the radio. "Optimus, we have a problem"

x-x-x

Ironhide rolled into the police precinct parking lot to find the LAPD waiting for him. Human officers crowded the underground parking area carrying rifles and handguns, forming an arc around the startled Autobot. Two cruisers pulled across the entrance, blocking his escape.

_Brainwashed idiots. Can't they see Barricade is using them?_ Ironhide's engine growled. He wasn't worried about the firearms – his armor could handle nearly anything the humans could throw at him. He didn't want to hurt any of them, but he wasn't letting _anything_ stop him from getting at that murdering slagger.

He ignored the officers' orders to backup and shut off his engine. Barricade was somewhere in the complex, he could tell that much from sensor data. He'd obviously tipped off the officers to Ironhide's approach. The wily Decepticon was defusing his energy signature, making him impossible to pin down.

And picking out one black and white car from a sea of black and whites… Ironhide growled in frustration.

An wiry grey-haired human stepped through the line of cruisers, giving Ironhide a look that disconcertingly reminded the Autobot of an old drill sergeant by the name of Kup.

"What in the _blue hell_ do you think you're doing?!" Ironhide flinched a bit. Oh yeah, _just _like Kup.

x-x-x

Bumblebee squealed to a stop in front of the police station, Lennox bailing out of the passenger door. He evaded a grab by one of the police officers blocking the entrance to the parking area. He ducked around a police car and stopped dead, Sam running into his back.

"And_ furthermore_, how _exactly_ were you planning on explaining two giant alien robots having a death match in downtown LA? I think you people would have caused enough damage in Mission City, without adding my city to the casualty list," the old cop was saying caustically. Ironhide sank lower on his tires as the dressing-down continued. The officers had already holstered their weapons, leaning against their cars to watch the show.

"But-" Ironhide tried to get a word in. "I-"

The chief cut him off with a raised hand. "I'm not finished."

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stand back." The officer tried to usher Lennox and Sam out.

"We're with the truck," Lennox explained.

The officer snorted. "I wouldn't admit that right now, if I were you," he said dryly.

x-x-x

The police chief turned and stalked back through the cruisers, leaving the Autobot truck to slink out of the lot.

The chief stopped, spitting another car with a glare. "Don't think I've forgotten about you two. I expect you to behave yourselves, and _stop baiting the truck_, or I'm going to do more than chew you out." He headed for the precinct doors.

"And change those damn decals!"

Barricade pretended not to hear him. Frenzy just snickered.

x-x-x

Ironhide was so quiet on the ride back that Lennox began to worry. "'Hide? You alright?" he asked quietly as they headed north.

The truck sighed. "I'm fine… It's just… aw, forget it."

"You can talk to me, Ironhide," Will coaxed.

Ironhide was silent for a few minutes. "I'm starting to scare myself," he admitted finally. "There was a time that I would have been furious with anyone who tried what I just did, but I didn't even think about where he was, what it meant... So many people have died already, it's getting hard to make myself care anymore. And that scares me."

Will tried to think of something comforting to say, but came up blank. The silence stretched for a long uncomfortable moment.

"Bah," Ironhide broke in with a disgusted tone. "Let's just get you home."

Lennox grinned. "Somehow I get the feeling you're less interested in my curfew and more interested in avoiding Prime," he teased.

"Slag yes! I've already been through one dressing-down today, I don't need to face Prime's lecture too!" Ironhide said fervently. "That old guy was bad enough!"

Will laughed. Ironhide was going to be just fine…


	9. Epilogue

A/N- Alrighty, it's the epilogue! Ugh, this feels wierd to be ending this... but as you can see, I've got a sequel in mind! After I kill off a few of these plotbunnies that have been taking over my house. This is also painfully short when typed. :P

_ x---------x------------x  
_

_Three years later:_

The cop wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, walking bleary-eyed across the parking lot with a Styrofoam cup full of coffee.

_Perfect._

Barricade snuck silently up behind the officer, bumper just brushing the officer's pant leg.

Blake turned and blinked down at Barricade. The Mustang oozed innocence. "Mornin' 'Cade," he muttered, turning back and heading for the door. He got a few steps before Barricade bumped into his leg again.

"…Did you want something?" Blake asked, trying to get his brain working. His first cup of coffee hadn't quite kicked in yet.

"Nope." Barricade's voice was bland.

"Oh. Okay." Blake started for the door again… and tripped as his foot caught under the Mustang's brush guard. He cursed, hot coffee spilling over his hands.

The Mustang sniggered. Blake glared.

"Think that's funny, do you?" Blake licked a bit of coffee off his hand. Then he smirked, planting his wet hand on Barricade's hood.

Barricade froze for a split second in horror.

Blake grinned and fled into the precinct, leaving a sputtering interceptor behind.

x-x-x

The Autobots found Barricade holed up in the car wash, being towel-dried by a grinning officer. They stopped, staring.

"…What?" Barricade demanded defensively.

Optimus Prime shook himself. "We need your help," he said quietly. "Ironhide is missing-"

"Good for him."

"-And we think Blackout's involved," Prime finished.

There was silence for a moment.

"Blackout's dead." Barricade shifted, allowing Blake better access to his headlights.

"Apparently he survived – unless you know another evil alien Pave Low?" Ratchet snorted.

"We need you and Frenzy. You're the only ones who have a chance of finding where Blackout is hiding."

"Of c-course we can. But-t why would we _care_?" Frenzy hopped off his nearby perch, skittering up to sit on the Mustang's overhead lights.

"Go away, we're not interested," Barricade told them in a bored tone. "Oi, squishy, you missed a spot."

After a few minutes of attempted reasoning that the cop car ignored entirely, the Autobots left in disappointment. Blake watched them go with a frown. Barricade bumped his leg.

"I'm still damp."

Blake looked down at him and crossed his arms.

"…Stop looking at me like that."

x-x-x

Frenzy poked at Barricade's onboard computer as the interceptor sped down the freeway, fast catching up to the slower Autobots.

"You're such a p-pushover." Frenzy snickered.

Barricade just grumbled.


End file.
